I felt it as I was reading your very apt words. I didn't understand it as a child yet now as an adult I feel it strongly. You've described this feeling beautifully. Thank you.
I felt the ache that sits when things get quiet, or you're the last one to leave a party; it doesn't always hurt, but nudges me a bit. I'm half Greek, but I never knew this word. I'm adding it to my vocabulary. Thank you.
You have beautifully and poignantly captured the essence of καημός. Your article reminded me of my mother, who would often speak about her own καημό. As a child, I didn’t fully understand it, but I felt the weight of it…as though somehow I carried a responsibility for her happiness. Your words brought those memories back to me in a very moving way. Thank you 🙏💛
You have taken me back in time when I was eleven years old and it had been two days since we arrived in Miami from Nicaragua. I experienced kaimós tis xenitiás, in a very intense way. I sat on the steps of the apartment building where we were staying and just wept for a while. They were big, soft tears that just kept rolling off my eyes. At the time, I didn't understand why. I was happy to arrive in the U.S. after a long trip but something was amiss.. now I understand. Thank you for this post. 🩷
Thank you so much for sharing this, Grethel. That’s exactly what kaimós tis xenitiás feels like… something you don’t understand in the moment, but your heart does. Those quiet tears say more than words ever could. I’m really touched that the post brought that memory back for you. 💙
Oh, I can feel it with you a lot. Now I have a word for it. When I reach over and you're not there cause you've already gotten up. When we used to say goodbye and go off to work. The feeling when we pulled out of the driveway on Woodland Road or said good-bye to South Pasadena. When we slow dance and the song is over, never really wanting it to end. When we kiss and count 3 or 6 beats and it's done. Sagapo agapimou.
I felt it as I was reading your very apt words. I didn't understand it as a child yet now as an adult I feel it strongly. You've described this feeling beautifully. Thank you.
Thank you 🙏 so much Tania. I appreciate you
Κάθε λιμάνι και καημός , κάθε καημός και δάκρυ που έλεγε κι ο ποιητής πατριώτη!
Γιώργος Μητσακης!
I felt the ache that sits when things get quiet, or you're the last one to leave a party; it doesn't always hurt, but nudges me a bit. I'm half Greek, but I never knew this word. I'm adding it to my vocabulary. Thank you.
Thank you 🙏 πατριώτη
I know that feeling, and now I've learned a new word! Hadn't heard it before, thankyou.
Thank you 🙏
You have beautifully and poignantly captured the essence of καημός. Your article reminded me of my mother, who would often speak about her own καημό. As a child, I didn’t fully understand it, but I felt the weight of it…as though somehow I carried a responsibility for her happiness. Your words brought those memories back to me in a very moving way. Thank you 🙏💛
Love your story. Thank you for sharing. Mother's καημος stays with you forever. I carry it too.
You have taken me back in time when I was eleven years old and it had been two days since we arrived in Miami from Nicaragua. I experienced kaimós tis xenitiás, in a very intense way. I sat on the steps of the apartment building where we were staying and just wept for a while. They were big, soft tears that just kept rolling off my eyes. At the time, I didn't understand why. I was happy to arrive in the U.S. after a long trip but something was amiss.. now I understand. Thank you for this post. 🩷
Thank you so much for sharing this, Grethel. That’s exactly what kaimós tis xenitiás feels like… something you don’t understand in the moment, but your heart does. Those quiet tears say more than words ever could. I’m really touched that the post brought that memory back for you. 💙
Loved it! Καημός is such a powerful Greek word. Your examples are perfect.
Thank you Eva! I appreciate you.
Sweet melancholy. A melancholy that for some reason you enjoy.
Oh, I can feel it with you a lot. Now I have a word for it. When I reach over and you're not there cause you've already gotten up. When we used to say goodbye and go off to work. The feeling when we pulled out of the driveway on Woodland Road or said good-bye to South Pasadena. When we slow dance and the song is over, never really wanting it to end. When we kiss and count 3 or 6 beats and it's done. Sagapo agapimou.